


To Play a Perfect Game

by PorcelainPlayground



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Background Relationships, Bad Parenting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Homeless Character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Minor Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, Sexual Themes, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-30 10:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14494542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainPlayground/pseuds/PorcelainPlayground
Summary: Being with Whizzer, Marvin decides, is like loving a forest fire.He is as beautiful as he is unobtainable, with his form ever-changing yet enticing all the same.He is the fine line where desire and destruction walk hand-in-hand against the New York skyline and he beckons with warm, open arms.But to love fire, you have to be prepared to burn.





	1. Kir Royale

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first time posting! I'm sorry in advance for any errors in my work or prolonged hiatuses (I'm just writing this as inspiration strikes me, so there's no set update schedule).
> 
> This story definitely has its darker moments, so please read the tags before starting on this fic. Tags will be updated as the story progresses, so make sure to keep an eye on them in case they change.
> 
> Whizzer/Marvin is the main pairing but Charlotte/Cordelia and Trina/Mendel will also make an appearance later on but are primarily in the background.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for taking the time to read this. I promise there'll be a happy ending so stick with me, we'll get there eventually!

**24th October 1979 – New York**

Marvin typically wasn’t the kind of person who frequents bars. They were loud and brimming with drunkards attempting to stagger their way to the door or chat up some flirty woman at a nearby table. The drinks were pricey and honestly, Marvin much preferred drinking in the privacy of his own home. However, the last time Trina had come to pick Jason up she spied empty beer cans accumulating on the coffee table and promptly accused him of being inebriated while Jason was over – which he insisted he was _not_.

In truth, Marvin saw anything that irritated Trina as a challenge. They hadn’t parted on good terms and the tension had only seemed to grow and linger over time, only released in subtle catty exchanges when gathered together on the holidays. Though, despite this, Marvin had actually found himself going out of the way to avoid another fight with this ex-wife. Especially not when it concerned Jason. 

Marvin had moved out shortly after he divorced Trina. Even after having lived alone for some time, it was still hard to get used to how quiet his apartment is compared to the house he had shared with Trina and Jason. Admittedly, Marvin and Jason were not as close as Marvin had always wanted them to be and it was disheartening to watch Jason grow closer to his mother. But there were days when Jason would come to him with a piece of homework he was struggling with and reluctantly ask for help. It was moments like this where Marvin noted that Jason looked just like his father. The two of them had always prided themselves on intelligence and seeing Jason come straight to him for help was one of the things that Marvin had always secretly loved. 

Seeing his son twice a week was hard enough already, he couldn’t chance Trina filing for sole custody on the grounds of him being an alcoholic. It was for that reason that Marvin found himself sat in a bar on a Wednesday evening nursing a pint of beer as he idly took in the muttering of small groups sat in booths flanking the bar. Much to his delight, Marvin found the place mostly empty and thus was seated at the bar itself. Drinking after work wasn’t commonplace for Marvin, but with Jason’s 11th birthday just around the corner, Marvin found it that little bit harder to relax. Jason was growing up so fast and he could feel himself drifting away from the kid. After seeing his unenthused face last year after unwrapping yet another chess set, Marvin had come to the conclusion that this year he would get Jason something he adored. Though that was proving to be a rather difficult feat. Marvin could feel the days slipping past faster and faster while he was still left uninspired. Not to mention the inevitable family meal that would ensue…

Marvin took another long sip from his glass. That definitely wasn't something he wanted to think about tonight.

He slouched a little further in his stool. Trying to ground himself in that peaceful sense of calm that had come to him so easily before. Marvin took in his surroundings. Noticing how the light played on the newly polished glasses, the smooth jazz that spilled from a single speaker in the corner of the room and the guy who had slid into a stool at the other end of the bar. 

The man seemed to be absently running his finger back and forth the polished wood of the bar. He sat upright on his stool with his shoulders back and chin held high as he studied the array of bottles on the opposite side of the bar. 

Marvin tightened his grip on his drink, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. He thought that he had convinced himself that hook-ups with pretty boys in cheap hotel rooms were something he would never do again. After all, the secret was out now. His son was aware of his sexuality and his wife had divorced him, there wasn’t a reason to hide anymore. Marvin had every intention of seeking out a long-term relationship with a lover he could spend quiet evenings at home with. Maybe with a chess board discarded on the coffee table, two identical mugs of cocoa left half finished and a radio singing quietly in the corner of the room.

Though it was hard to think of a sensible long-term relationship when that handsome stranger had decided to sit five seats away from him, balancing himself on the stool and running a hand through his hair. Marvin tried to turn his focus onto something else, he really did, but he’s only human and any good-looking guy in pants as tight as those warrants his attention.

It was at that moment when the stranger looks up. And he looks directly at Marvin. Staring deep into his eyes while a small smile teases the corner or his lips. He leaned a little further onto the bar resting his chin on the palm of his hand, arching his back and looking to Marvin with an air of amusement at having caught him staring.

The change in Marvin was instant. He turned away and tried to appear nonchalant. Gripping the sides of his glass tightly and gulping down its contents, the beer doing little to cool the heat seeping up his neck and burning his cheeks. 

Marvin set his empty glass back down on the wooden counter of the bar, ready to slide from his stool and try to make his way outside before he embarrasses himself anymore. Though when he looked up, he noticed the man already making his way towards him. _Oh God, he knows exactly what he’s doing with those hips…_

The man slid into the empty stool next to Marvin, leaning in close and resting his hand on Marvin’s arm, effectively trapping him. He held Marvin’s dazed stare and asked way too innocently, “buy me a drink?”

Marvin stuttered, trying to find his voice. But the bartender was already in front of him and he was feeling slightly light-headed and he was _really_ liking the way the handsome stranger was looking at him. So, he found himself nodding absently. 

To which he found the man smiling gratefully and turning to face the bartender, allowing Marvin a moment to catch his breath. 

“A kir royale,” the man then glanced back at Marvin, adding “please,” and watched Marvin tense in his seat at the sound of hearing his voice.

Though by the time Marvin turned to the bartender, he had managed to scrape together enough composure to only look mildly flustered. “Another beer, for me.”

The bartender turns away to fix them their drinks, effectively leaving Marvin’s attention solely on the man beside him. Trying to find something to say, while doing his best to ignore the tingling in his arm beneath the stranger’s hand, Marvin began, “so, um -”

“Thank you.” Marvin was suddenly cut off. “For the drink.” The man added, still leaving his hand firmly in place on Marvin’s arm and shifting in his seat a little so he could better face his benefactor. 

Admittedly, Marvin found that having the man so close made him feel both incredibly nervous and suspiciously at ease. Yes, the man was incredibly good-looking, but dark smudges lined the underside of his eyes and teased at the idea of even a man like this being kept awake into the early hours of the morning – a plight that Marvin could sympathize with entirely. _So, I guess he is human after all._

"It's no problem," Marvin looked at the man beside him with newfound confidence. "What are you doing here anyway? Waiting for someone?"

The stranger hummed in amusement but answered with his eyes trained on the polished wood of the bar. “Something like that,” he mused before looking back at Marvin, nodding to the empty beer glass. “Rough day at work?” 

“Yeah,” Marvin smiled at the man in the seat beside him. “Sometimes it all just feels like a bit too much.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the man’s eyes suddenly flashed dangerously and his grip on Marvin’s arm tightened slightly. “Want me to help take your mind off it?”

For the second time that evening, Marvin found himself speechless. _Is he implying what I think he is?_ Marvin tried to make sense of the man in front of him. The way he accentuates his hips when he walks, the downright sinful way the man looks at him and the hand on his arm. _Fuck, he is definitely implying what I think he is._

Mercifully, the bartender is back in front of them and setting Marvin’s beer down next to the empty glass. Marvin hastily dove for the drink raising it to his lips in an attempt to escape the situation. _How am I supposed to respond to that? I mean, I can’t deny that I don’t want to..._ Actually, Marvin really wanted to. That man was a perfect distraction from the stress in Marvin’s life, so why not indulge a little?  
Marvin took another gulp of his drink before setting it down again, only to choke when he spied the glass the stranger was delicately holding between his fingers. 

The man’s drink was bright pink. 

_Subtle…_

Marvin did notice, however, that the man had removed his hand from where it had rested on his arm. Actually, rather surprised to realise that he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. Instead, the stranger used it to hold the base of the glass while he used the other hand to dip his fingers into the cocktail, fishing out a raspberry floating on the surface and slipping it between his lips. 

The stranger closed his eyes and rolled his head backwards, allowing a groan of delight to slip past his parted lips. Somehow the man managed to sound embarrassingly loud in the half-empty bar, though if he were sheepish, it certainly didn’t show. Instead, he opted to sidle a tiny bit closer to Marvin so that their legs were barely touching yet were placed in a way where his presence would definitely not go unnoticed. 

Marvin, determined to not be bested by the truly infuriating man in front of him, casually allowed his fingers to lightly ghost over the stranger’s own.  
“Do you come here often?” Marvin asked, trying to appear as confident as possible. _Surely this man can’t really be all that confident._  
_He’s way too smug_. Marvin allowed his mind to wander. Imagining what it would be like to strip that self-assured smile from his lips and watch that oh-so-beautiful stranger fall apart beneath his fingertips.

OK so maybe Marvin was a little far gone. That and it had been a painfully long time since he had even a little physical affection, let alone a hook-up. Or maybe it was just the drinks – yeah, this was definitely one he’d blame on the alcohol tomorrow morning. 

The man was seemingly beyond excited that Marvin had decided to play along and met his eyes with renewed vigour. 

“Yeah, actually, it’s one of the few places I have yet to be kicked out of,” he watched the bartender on the opposite side of the bar warily, the man in question appeared to be busying himself with polishing a glass. 

Marvin pretended to know what the man meant by that.

“Most of the others don’t end up actually buying me drinks though,” the stranger drained half of his glass. “So, thank you.” 

“Marvin.”

The man nodded his head in affirmation. “Marvin,” he tested the name on his tongue. “Duly noted.”

Truth be told, Marvin expected the man to launch into an introduction of his own. Yet it seemed as though he didn’t take the hint. 

“Honestly, it’s pretty cold out there. So, I thought I’d stop by here and kill some time.” The man took another sip from his drink, running his tongue over the rim to catch any residue the cheap champagne left on the glass. “And now, well, let’s just say that I’m glad I did.”

Marvin barely caught the wink sent his way.

Marvin finally took the time to focus on what the man was wearing and after a brief assessment, realised that it was probably the worst thing a person could wear on a cold October evening. The stranger was clad in a long-sleeved shirt that appeared to be a pale green on closer inspection. He wore it with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and with the bottom tucked neatly behind the waistband of his pants. Actually, it seemed to be creased in just a few too many places. _Why would a man this attuned to his looks show up in yesterday’s clothes?_  
Marvin shrugged it off. It wasn’t his place to question this guy’s style anyway. Fashion had never been his forte, Marvin’s greatest assets had always laid in his ability to intellectualise – it was both a blessing and a curse.

“So, are you…” The stranger cleared his throat and once again drew Marvin into the world’s most infuriating staring match. “Busy later?”

How could Marvin Say no? Honestly, for the handsome stranger in front of him, Marvin would have no problem running into the bathroom and hastily cancelling any plans with a couple of brief phone calls. It was now more than ever that Marvin found himself thankful for his lack of social life. Though he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for whoever this guy was supposed to be waiting for, he couldn’t quite find it in him to feel sorry enough to pass up the nameless man’s proposal.

“Not exactly, what did you have in mind?” 

The man smiled. “Guess.”

Fuck. Marvin _really_ didn’t want to be left to his own imagination when it came to thinking about how this night would play out. The way this stranger had been eyeing him over the lip of his glass and those tight clothes were already providing more than enough food for thought. 

Marvin withdrew his wallet from the pocket of his blazer, counted $25 with his fingers and placed the notes on the bar. He wasn't sure exactly how much the stranger's drink cost, after all, it was something he had never seen served before, but after the numerous pints he’d had prior to the man’s arrival it was safe to say that this trip wouldn’t be cheap. 

After counting the money, the bartender remained in place; looking expectantly at Marvin. Cringing, Marvin plucked another $10 from his wallet and offered it to the bartender, who now seemed satisfied as he turned to log the money at the cash register. 

Marvin never found out if he was deserving of change. Instead, he found himself being tugged to his feet by the handsome stranger, whose hand had now secured itself tightly around his wrist. He was quickly making his way to the exit with Marvin in tow.

Marvin gave one last longing glance to their abandoned glasses, silently mourning the loss of $35 spent on discarded drinks.

It was difficult to find his footing without tripping over table tops or chair legs but, thankfully, Marvin had seemed to find his way to the door without coming to any bodily harm. The man, though, seemed to have no trouble weaving between the staggered tables, even managing to flash brief smiles at others as he passed by which seemed to rile Marvin up more than he’d care to admit.

When they both reached the exit, the stranger took hold of the doorknob and without giving Marvin a chance to put on his blazer, pulled the door open.

The night air was merciless and Marvin felt it instantly. Without his jacket on to protect him, Marvin shuddered against the cold. He impulsively folded his arms across his chest, while feeling the tips of his nose and ears beginning to redden and wishing wistfully for the scarf he had left at home.

It was late, well, _later_ than Marvin had expected he’d stay out. He had work the next day and planned on getting a good night’s sleep, even if the rest of New York flocked to nightclubs with the intent of waking up passed out on a street corner tomorrow morning. Still, despite the drunkards and car horns and godawful dance music from a nearby club, Marvin couldn’t help but appreciate the night sky. He had always claimed to be a romantic at heart and standing outside with a very pretty man beneath a very pretty starlight seemed almost serene. Even if the man beside him only had one thing in mind, Marvin couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

He looked at the stranger. No, he really couldn't complain.

He expected the man to start speaking. That’s what usually happened next - an awkward string of words asking what house or hotel their spouse won’t find them at. 

What Marvin didn’t expect, however, was a pair of lips to be pressed against his own. Not here: against the starry backdrop of New York, where people could see them and hurl insults – Marvin had a _job_ to go back to. Being seen with another man was not the reputation he wanted to follow him into work the next day. _People would talk_.

But the stranger was persistent and Marvin was just drunk enough to prevent rational thought from stopping him. So, he kissed back. 

Marvin pulled away, only slightly, to catch his breath and sneak a glance at that stunning man who (infuriatingly) stood just a few inches taller than him. 

That was the moment Marvin knew he was screwed. Screwed because there was no way anyone else could live up to this man. Screwed because there’s no way he could pretend to be straight after this. Screwed because this man was still just a stranger he had happened to meet in a bar; who could never provide whatever long-term relationship Marvin so desperately wanted.

Maybe it was those brown eyes and the way the man stared down at him, glassy and hooded with badly disguised lust. Or the way he was panting slightly, warm breath restoring feeling to Marvin’s lips in the close proximity that neither seemed bothered about. When the stranger began to tug Marvin in the direction of the alley tucked between the bar and a closed corner store, Marvin happily followed.  
They were barely round the corner before Marvin had pushed the stranger up against the wall. 

He had already come to terms with the fact that he was in way too deep to turn back now and there was a nagging voice at the back of his mind telling him to wake up tomorrow with one less regret and _sleep with the beautiful brunet._

Marvin’s fingers found their way to the man’s belt loops, ignoring his blazer as it slid from its place over his arm and landed in a heap on the floor. In turn, the stranger threaded his hands through Marvin’s hair and leaned forward to once again lock their lips together. 

Marvin felt his pulse quicken and blood rush. He swayed a little on his feet from both the alcohol and sheer thrill of it all but allowed himself to be carried away by the task at hand.

The stranger smiled against Marvin’s lips and let his hands slide from Marvin’s hair, down his arms to his hips.

Suddenly, the man gave a harsh push, effectively flipping them. Marvin gasped at the sudden cold air between them but leant in to kiss him once again after only a brief pause.

He didn’t get far though, as the stranger held Marvin’s hips firmly against the wall, cementing him in place. Marvin looked up in confusion and searched the man’s face for the source of his hesitation. His results were inconclusive, however, and he leaned in once again. 

Marvin’s lips hovered a short distance away from the stranger’s own. He was panting softly, warm breath condensing into thin wisps of silver-white which rose to mingle among the stars. Marvin waited for the man to close the distance between them, but he never did.

Instead, he pulled back – cheeks flushed and lips swollen. 

“Hey, um, what is it that you want exactly?” The stranger asked; fixing Marvin with an intense stare.

Marvin felt the air suddenly shift between them. 

"What do you mean?" For some reason, Marvin felt like that was a dangerous question to ask but stuck to it regardless.

The man scoffed, “coy,” he remarked and leaned forward. Moving a hand from Marvin’s hips to paw at the front of his shirt. He brought his lips to the side of Marvin’s head, inches from his ear. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he purred “how much can you afford?”

Marvin felt his breath catch in his throat. _What exactly is he implying?_

_Oh._

After a few moments of standing paralysed in place, Marvin reacted all at once. 

He slid from beneath the stranger, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Content with the distance between the two of them, Marvin tried to form a coherent sentence.

“I, um… what did?” Marvin trailed off, he looked desperately at the man for some kind of help, but he just found the same look of bewilderment reflected back at him.

“Are you…” Marvin hesitated, “a prostitute?” 

The man’s demeanour shifted instantly.

He bristled and folded his arms across his chest. Drawing himself into a poised posture; muscles tensed and head held high.

“What if I am?” The stranger asked, knitting his eyebrows together into a frown. 

Marvin floundered, caught in the man’s accusative stare. He had no idea how to proceed in this situation and it appeared the stranger was intent on not giving him any clues. 

So, Marvin did the only thing he could think of in his half-drunken state – turn and run.

Truth be told, Marvin didn't remember much after that point. Maybe he heard the man call after him, or it could have been commotion spilling out of the club nearby. He didn't wait to find out though, instead, he staggered down the street with all the inelegance of a newborn deer.

 

~*~

 

Marvin woke up the next day a little after noon. 

He was lying face down in (thankfully) his own bed, with last night’s clothes stuck to his skin. There was no way Marvin was going to bother dragging himself into work at this point and absolutely nobody at the office would be sympathetic enough to spare Marvin the hassle of human interaction, despite his throbbing head.

The thought of getting up seemed truly horrible – but Marvin at least had the decency to feel somewhat ashamed of himself and thus decided to do something productive to make up for last night.  
Marvin shuddered at the thought. He’d been propositioned by a prostitute. A stunningly handsome prostitute – but a prostitute nonetheless. 

_God, just how desperate did I really look?_ Marvin thought solemnly, running a hand through his matted hair – _okay if nothing else I’m getting a shower._

Marvin pushed himself up from the bed (he hadn’t managed to get under the duvet last night, instead giving up and opting to just lay over the top of it). The room shifted as Marvin stood up and he felt unsteady on his feet.

 _That was weird._ Marvin remembered drinking last night, after all, how could he forget? But from his experience with alcohol, he was pretty sure that a few beers too many didn't make you ‘help-I-don’t-think-I-can-make-it-to-the-toilet-before-I vomit-all-over-my-bedroom’ drunk. In the worst-case scenario, he should be a little hungover.

But it hurt to think with his tired brain and so he didn't dwell on it for too long. Instead, he peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes, throwing them into the hamper in the corner of his room and indulging in a cold shower.

 

~*~

 

Feeling somewhat better, Marvin emerged from his bedroom in search of water and painkillers. 

Marvin’s apartment wasn’t big, but it was plenty of room for himself (and Jason at the weekends) to live comfortably and inexpensively in New York. The bedrooms were small and the bathroom was awkwardly cramped with all the essentials. The living room lead into the kitchen, where Marvin had even managed to squeeze a small dining table against the wall. 

Despite being somewhat full, there had always been something not-quite-right about the apartment. It was frustrating in a ‘missing-ingredient’ kind of way where Marvin was aware that something was wrong but could never quite put his finger on it. Still, his shelves and cupboards always seemed to have whatever he needed; so, he couldn’t complain.

As Marvin made his way down the short hallway and into his living room, he stopped in the doorway. 

A short, fat bottle of gin sat on the coffee table. His TV was still on and playing some painfully exaggerated sitcom on low volume. The bright colours from the TV seemed to catch on the emptied glass beside the bottle of gin, causing it to look like a garish kaleidoscope. 

Marvin couldn’t look at it. He hastily picked up the bottle of gin sheepishly screwing the top on and assessing how much he had drank after coming home last night. _Too much_ , Marvin though with a sigh.  
This was his expensive bottle. Something he had bought a while ago with the promise of reserving it for special occasions. It had only been opened once before - Trina and Mendel’s wedding day.

He placed the bottle in the cupboard. Pushing it to the back and bringing a few items forward to disguise it from sight – Jason had a knack for finding things he wasn’t supposed to. 

Upon returning to the living room with a roll of paper towel in hand, Marvin set about mopping up the small puddles of spilt gin on the coffee table and clearing the glass.

Despite doing minimal work, Marvin sank into his plush couch the minute the task was done. He closed his eyes against the bright sunlight pouring in through the apartment’s one window and tried to find a moments relief from the ever-present pain in his skull. He opened one eye and spied the phone in the corner of the room. 

He sighed. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. He was unexplainedly absent from work. They usually try to get in touch with him when this happens and whenever they can’t get through they seem to always contact Trina despite the two of them being divorced for well over a year now. As much as she claimed to hate him, Trina seemed to hold no real resentment for Marvin. She had no problem pretending that Marvin was helplessly bed-ridden whenever he had a little too much to drink – even though it didn’t happen very often. Still, Marvin couldn’t get away with it without having to suffer through whatever berating speech she’d pour into the receiver. 

Marvin stood up and circled the coffee table swiping the phone from its cradle. He paused. There was no way he was doing this without taking painkillers. He couldn’t listen to Trina yelling on a good day, so if there was any hope of making it through the inevitable ‘talk’, it’d be under the soothing effects of medication.

Unfortunately for him, the kitchen that held everything seemed to be missing exactly what Marvin needed. _Great, how could this day get any worse?_

Marvin snatched his coat and tugged it on, all the while muttering curses under his breath. He returned the phone to its cradle and groped around various pockets in search of his wallet. 

Upon finding it, he was somewhat relieved to find a few creased notes still remaining. Satisfied, he returned it to his pocket and left in search of something to soothe the pain left over from a night of bad choices.

 

~*~

 

Marvin hadn’t planned on going far. New York was busy by nature, but he was hoping to avoid the pushy shoppers the larger stores usually hosted. So alternatively, he took a wander down one of the sparser streets the city had to offer. 

It was pretty in an urban sort of way. Black fire escapes curled around buildings like ivy and brick shops were nestled against each other to the point where you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. 

It was probably Marvin’s overly-analytical nature and tendency to get absorbed dangerously into his own thoughts that took him so long to find what he was looking for. But after spending only about thirty minutes ducking in and out of shops, Marvin had obtained a box of painkillers from a drug store on a street-corner. With his quest fulfilled, Marvin began to make his way home.

Marvin had lived in New York long enough to know that wandering into back alleys wasn’t a good idea. Actually, it was a really, _really_ bad idea. But from the opposite sidewalk, Marvin saw something move from within the shadows. In turn, he slowed down his pace in order to catch a glimpse of whatever seemed to be happening a little way away. 

He was rewarded with a perfect view of a stranger – _the_ prostitute – from last night emerging from the alley. He was wearing the exact same clothing and appeared to be distractedly tugging on the undone collar of his shirt. He leant against the wall in a fake display of nonchalance, only betrayed by the anxious way his eyes scanned the streets. It wasn’t long before Marvin found them locked on his own.

Marvin was never the empathic type - that was a quality he seemed to both loathe – but he had to admit: the way the man looked at him was just plain weird. He could not decipher the secret code the stranger seemed to be sending him and instead just stared back at him blankly, a little taken back by the familiar face.

 _Maybe he was cold?_ The wind held a vicious bite despite it only being October and Marvin shuddered to think of the man who stood in only a blouse and trousers. Hugging his coat tightly against his body and burying his hands deep in his pockets, Marvin issued a silent prayer for the weather to pick up - if not for himself, then for the stranger across the street.

At that point, Marvin was all too ready to go home, take his tablets, face Trina and forget all about his run-in with the prostitute. It was just bad luck that they'd run into each other again.

The man, though, seemed to have other ideas. He pushed himself off the wall and was checking both directions of the road for oncoming traffic.

 _Shit, he’s making his way over here_. Marvin thought in sudden panic.

It hurt to admit, but there really wasn’t much Marvin could do other than stand there and wait for the prostitute to cross over. After all, he knew he’d been seen and running off again might come off as a bit rude considering it would have been the second time within a few hours. 

The man didn’t give Marvin nearly enough time to get ready for the awkward conversation that he’s sure would come next – he could feel the swell of his headache returning just thinking about it.

The stranger stood close to Marvin. Not as close as last night, but then again, they were in public and Marvin seriously doubted that there was any chance of _that_ happening any time soon. 

The man rocked from one foot to the other, looking uncertain and a little reluctant to meet Marvin's eyes now that they were face-to-face once again.

The prostitute edged back discretely before addressing Marvin. “Um, hi…”

“Hello.” 

“Look, I know you’re not interested or anything like that,” he laughed nervously before continuing, “but you ran off so quickly last night that you forgot this.”

The man held out Marvin’s blazer, offering it to him. It seemed that the space between them couldn’t even be bridged by the stranger’s outstretched arms. 

“Oh, thanks. I hadn’t even noticed that it was missing.” Marvin took his blazer gingerly and folded it over one arm. 

The prostitute took a few more steps back. 

_Why is he acting so different to last night?_ Marvin thought as he folded the jacket over one arm.

“It’s no problem, don’t mention it.” 

The stranger turned and began to retreat when Marvin called out to him.

“Wait!”

The man jumped at Marvin’s sudden change of tone and he spun round to face him once again.

There was a moment of silence between them, then “let me buy you a drink?”

Another beat of silence passed between them before the stranger heaved a hoarse laugh against the chilling autumn air. 

“And they say chivalry is dead…” The stranger playfully sidled up alongside Marvin, slipping back into character effortlessly. “You know I’m a prostitute, right? You honestly don’t need to court me, that’s not really how this whole thing works.”

“I know that- “

“Well then, why don’t you spend the money on something else and finish what you started last night…” 

_Tempting. Truly tempting_. But definitely something Marvin could see himself regretting later on. He had to make that gin last.

Marvin discretely looked up and away, trying to gauge if the others walking by were paying them any attention or not. Relieved to find they weren't, Marvin turned his focus back towards the stranger.

“Oh, please, you know I couldn’t afford it.” He finished with a smile.

Than man beside him laughed and _God_ , Marvin forgot how stunning he was.

The prostitute looked towards the alley, only for a moment, then liked arms with Marvin; leaning against his shoulder and steering them on course for the closest café.

“Marvin, I do believe you promised me one drink.”

“Wait, how do you know my name?”

The man hummed, “so you seriously don’t remember? Huh…” there was another pause. “How much do you remember?”

Marvin winced as if suddenly remembering the pain was still there. “Enough.”

The stranger hesitated before he continued. “You told me your name last night.”

“And you remembered?”

“Obviously. It was hilarious watching you try to run down the street by the way. Really though, I have no idea how you made it home in one piece.”

"It seems as though I didn't," Marvin gestured to the jacket hanging off his other arm. "You really didn't have to go out of your way, so thank you."

“Whizzer.”

For a minute, Marvin was sure that he’d misheard the man beside him. “What?”

“Whizzer – my name.”

Marvin tried to hide the smile on his lips. “Is that, like, the name on your birth certificate or something? No wonder, you ran away to become a prostitute.”

Marvin was met with a light shove from Whizzer whose cheeks burned bright red (he’d blame it on the cold). “Shut up.”

Marvin didn’t push it after that. After all, he had no idea how Whizzer actually got into prostitution and he was treading very carefully to avoid hitting a nerve.

 

~*~

 

The coffee shop they arrived at was small. Its door was unimposing and blended in seamlessly with the other stores nearby. Inside, numerous tables were scattered throughout the shop and the walls were painted an obnoxious shade of lemon yellow. The coffee shop was a favourite of Marvin's. It only allowed for a small number of people at once and served a variety of different drinks and snacks.

Despite the height advantage that Whizzer was oh so proud of, Marvin noticed that he seemed to shrink behind him the minute they walked in. He had gone unnervingly quiet and remained in Marvin’s shadow. 

“Hey, Whizzer,” Marvin began, stealing a glance at the man behind him, “any idea what you want?”

“Oh, um, I don’t mind. You order for me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you something you don’t like.”

Whizzer’s eyes looked up quickly and glimpsed the menu written on the back wall behind the counter. He plucked the name of the cheapest drink they offered and recited it to Marvin before returning his gaze to the floor.

Marvin wasn't convinced but decided not to push it. Instead, he dismissed Whizzer to find them a table while he paid for their drinks.

Whizzer claimed a booth next to the window and was sat drumming his fingers on the table. He didn’t look up until Marvin set the two cups of steaming coffee down on in front of him. 

Upon seeing Marvin return, Whizzer smiled warmly and watched him slide into the seat opposite. Marvin drew one of the cups closer and pushed the other one is Whizzer’s direction. 

Whizzer's fingers curled around the warm mug and he hugged it slightly closer to his chest, relishing in the warmth. Whizzer waited for Marvin to take a sip from his own drink before Whizzer brought the rim of the mug to his lips and tasted it for himself, this time without the theatrics from the bar. Still, Marvin couldn’t help but smile. Whizzer grimaced at the taste but managed to swallow regardless.  
“It’s great, thank you.” 

Marvin laughed to himself before reaching over to take Whizzer’s mug from his hands and swapping it with his own.

“Here.” Whizzer just stared at the man opposite him with confusion. “I figured that since you had such an unusual taste in drinks at the bar, regular coffee probably doesn’t cut it.”

Whizzer’s mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Try it. It’s not poisoned, I promise.” 

Whizzer sipped at the drink, his eyes widening a little in recognition. “Vanilla?”

Marvin nodded. “I wasn’t sure how much sweeter you liked it, but after the pink mystery drink from last night, I figured this was probably a closer match than regular coffee.” 

Whizzer smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He let his eyes wander over the surface of the table. “I haven’t had vanilla in years.”

 _Years?_ If Marvin wasn’t concerned before, he certainly was now.

“You’re too kind, Marvin.” Whizzer held the mug in one hand and used the other to reach across the table for Marvin’s. “I just wish there was something I could do to show you how grateful I am.” He was inching closer now, along with the same intense gaze and teasing lilt to his voice.

"Well, it's a shame there isn’t.” 

Whizzer had closed the distance between them until they were breathing the same air. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Marvin leant back into the seat, effectively regaining the space Whizzer had stolen. “Drink your coffee.”

Whizzer sat back with an exaggerated sigh, though he did take the mug in both hands again and resume taking mouthfuls of coffee. 

“You really don’t need to do this, you know?” Whizzer was looking at Marvin from over the rim of his cup. Though it wasn’t the flirtatious stare from the bar, it was sceptical and guarded and a look Marvin wasn’t all too keen on seeing on Whizzer’s face. 

Marvin feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”

Whizzer lifted the cup to his lips only to find it empty. "Actually, never mind." He set the mug back down on the table.

Without giving Marvin time to swallow the last of his drink, Whizzer stood up. 

“Well, thank you, Marvin. It’s been fun but all good things must come to an end.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll cope without me.”  
Whizzer stood beside Marvin’s seat and took hold of his shoulder. “My offer still stands – in case you’re interested.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a son. I’m supposed to be making good long-term choices here.”

Whizzer shrugged matter-of-factly and let his hand slip from its place on Marvin's shoulder.

“Pity.” 

He made his way to the door but lingered there with his eyes on Marvin as if contemplating whether or not to say something but ultimately decided to turn and leave without another word.

Marvin finished his drink with the disturbing stretch of silence that settled after Whizzer left.

He was left a little unsettled. This was his favourite coffee shop. In the past, Marvin knew the quiet to be comforting in a city that never sleeps, so why was it so weird now?

Marvin left the coffee shop minute later, donning his coat and making sure that he hadn't forgotten his blazer again.

From there he joined the flow of people on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of his apartment. Marvin slipped his hands into his coat pockets, feeling the neglected box of painkillers. _Looks like I didn’t need them after all._

Marvin followed the sidewalk around a corner, half-expecting to find Whizzer waiting against the wall; arms folded and asking what took him so long. But he wasn't there. Marvin pretended not to feel disappointed.


	2. You're my favourite broken record

**9th November 1979 – New York**

“I have no idea how you managed to leave the house like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, God.” Whizzer rubbed his forehead and gave an exasperated sigh. “Marvin – _dearest_ – you know that I love you and cherish our time together but seriously, if you show up dressed like _that_ again we’re done.”

“Hey, I’m the one paying for _your_ drinks here.” Marvin tried to take offense, but honestly, he was just happy than Whizzer seemed somewhat more comfortable around him. “Besides, what would you know about fashion?”

Whizzer slammed his cup onto the tabletop with an unnecessary amount of force, causing the warm coffee to spill down the sides and leave brown streaks on the white ceramic mug.

That’s it: Marvin had poked the bear. “Marvin, when your income depends on how you look and dress then – and only then – will you be able to tell me what I can and cannot wear.”

“Really though, are you sure you can’t at least put a coat on or something? It won’t be long until it starts snowing out there.”

“I’m fine, really.” Whizzer’s voice took on a sudden softness. “I don’t feel the cold.”

“Of course. There’s nothing more attractive than frostbite.” Marvin scoffed, taking another sip from his mug.

Whizzer laughed, eyes alight and looking directly at Marvin. “It _did_ look like you were pretty interested back at the bar.”

Checkmate.

Defeated, Marvin leant against the back of his seat and averted his gaze. 

It had been two weeks since Marvin officially met Whizzer Brown. Since then, they had been ‘coincidentally’ running into each other in the exact same place at the exact same time. 

It wasn’t like Marvin was _deliberately_ going out of his way to find Whizzer. Well, he wouldn’t admit to it if you asked him, at least. Still, be it fate or Marvin’s persistence, the two of them seemed to gravitate towards their special little coffee shop in the quietest corner of New York, tucked away from the rest of the world.

Whizzer, Marvin discovered, didn’t have a phone – which made his life infinitely harder, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to expend the effort. 

They settled for meeting up at the same time and place daily (or as often as time would allow), with the exception of weekends, which Marvin reserved especially for Jason. There were odd days, though, where Whizzer wouldn’t show up at all, but then be stood there waiting the following day. Whizzer never offered an explanation for his whereabouts and Marvin was too afraid to bring it up.

“Are you saying that without walking around half-dressed, you wouldn’t be able to attract _clients_?”

“Marvin, it’s not my body that attracts ‘clients’, it’s my dazzling personality.” 

“Of course, there’s nothing like being mocked by the man going down on you in a back alley.”

“Don’t try to high-road me on this one, you were all for it two weeks ago.”

“I _thought_ , that two weeks ago I’d met a charming stranger in a bar who was genuine in his forthcoming."

Whizzer scoffed and curled his hand around the mug he had abandoned on the table. “A man like that doesn’t exist – believe me, I know.”

 _Huh. It looks like Whizzer had some pretty spooky skeletons stuffed in his closet_ , Marvin thought after seeing the grimace on his face.

Whizzer moved to raise the cup to his lips.

“Shit!”

Marvin jumped at Whizzer’s sudden outburst and leant over the table to assess the damage. 

A patch of Whizzer’s pale green shirt was discoloured and stained a light brown. Marvin reached for a serviette and offered it to Whizzer who began to blot the stain before the shirt was unsalvageable, all the while muttering angrily under his breath. He gave up a few minutes later and threw the dirtied napkin onto the table, clearly agitated. 

“Hey,” Marvin began. “Are you okay?”

Whizzer sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Does coffee stain?”

“I’m pretty sure it does.”

“So, you’re telling me that there’s no point in trying to get this out in the bathroom?”

“You could try, but it’ll probably just wet the rest of your shirt.”

“Great.” Whizzer rolled his eyes and sat back huffing angrily, but then sat up and smiled at Marvin. “It looks like I’m just going to have to take my shirt off then.” He shrugged matter-of-factly and reached to undo the buttons.

Marvin swatted at his hands. “Don’t you dare. I like this coffee shop, I’m not getting kicked out because you can’t keep your clothes on.”

Whizzer gave an exaggerated sigh and held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I am suing you for damages though.”

“You’re the one who spilt the coffee.”

“Yeah, but it was coffee that you bought.” 

Marvin’s hand subtly reached for his jacket pocket. “How much was it anyway?”

“$100.”

“What?” Marvin’s hand froze and his face paled.

“Plus VAT.”

“Piss off.”

Whizzer laughed leant his elbow on the table, resting his chin on the cushion of his palm.

“It’s designer.” Marvin seemed to still be a little taken aback so Whizzer elaborated. “That’s why it’s so expensive.”

“Is that why you wear it every day?”

“People appreciate a man who’s well-dressed.”

“They probably don’t care what brand your shirt it. Besides, I’m sure it spends more time on a bedroom floor than on you, anyway.”

Whizzer hummed. “Do you want to test that theory?”

Marvin rolled his eyes and busied himself with taking a sip of his coffee. It was lukewarm now, but he wasn’t in a rush to leave. Especially not when Whizzer was sat in front of him trying his best not to shiver. Marvin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the only thing stopping Whizzer from standing outside and freezing to death was the half-empty mug of coffee in his hand. 

“No thanks. I can get people into my bed without paying them.”

Dejected, Whizzer pouted. “Worth a shot.”

Whizzer was probably the proudest person Marvin had ever met. He was fierce and clever and painfully stubborn. He could get by on his own and he knew it, always putting his best foot forward and making the most of whatever life offered him (which admittedly wasn’t much).

It was at that moment when the door opened and the two of them looked up at the sound. 

Their coffee shop was usually pretty quiet. It tended to serve the same devoted regulars routinely. It was rare for someone new to stumble through the door and if they did, more often than not it was to sheepishly ask the barista for directions.

This time someone new had found his way into their little solace. He made his way to the front of the shop and paid for his order.

Marvin only spared him a fleeting glance before shifting his focus back to Whizzer.

His eyes fell to where the coffee had marred Whizzer’s shirt. “I could probably ask Trina if she knows how to get coffee out of shirts if you want. I have to go pick up Jason later anyway.”

Whizzer, though, hadn’t stopped looking at the man who had walked in. It was only upon catching the last of Marvin’s sentence that he was made aware he was even being spoken to. 

“What was that?”

“I’m going to pick my kid up from my ex-wife’s house later. Do you want me to ask about your shirt?”

Whizzer waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s okay. It’s not like I paid for it anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Whizzer sighed and leaned in a little closer. His voice was reduced to a quiet whisper and Marvin couldn’t help but latch onto every word that fell past his lips. 

“New York’s a big city. There’s a lot of business going on here.”

“What’s your point?”

"God, you are so blunt," Whizzer muttered, mostly to himself. "I _mean_ there’s a lot of fancy buildings with white-collars who have boring lives and way too much money. When you think about it, New York’s the best place for me to be. ‘ _Clients_ ’ – as you so eloquently put it – are practically drawn to me.”

Whizzer smiled, as if extremely happy with his circumstances and leaned even further forward. Arching his back and brushing the hair from his face. 

"There's plenty of wealthy businessmen who've come to America for work and thought ‘oh hey, I've got plenty of money and no morals, let's sleep with a prostitute to cope with my suppressed homosexual fantasies while my wife's back home tending to the children while I'm away'."

Marvin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. That hit _way_ too close to home for his liking.

Marvin popped the first button on his shirt and loosened his tie. 

“It’s not that easy, you know?” He protested meekly. “Try getting a job when people know you’re gay.”

“Marvin, you’re preaching to the choir.”

Whizzer did back off though and settled in his seat, crossing one leg over the other before continuing. “Sometimes – not very often, mind you – I get lucky. Like _really_ lucky. Sometimes they’re French, or Spanish, or Italian- “

“Get to the point.”

Whizzer frowned. “-anyway, they’re these _super_ rich men who dress well and have intoxicating cologne and leave the best tips. They invite me back to their hotel rooms, or at least I think they do; I don’t actually know any other language, and…” Whizzer smirked “… you know.”

Feeling his cheeks flush, Marvin looked away and out of the window.

“They really won't care if I happen to get dressed in the wrong shirt by accident. They're usually still asleep when I leave anyway. Besides, what are they going to do? Tell the police that their expensive shirt was taken by the local prostitute who just so happens to be a _guy_?”

Marvin sighed. “Okay, I get it, you’re a thief too.”

“I like to consider myself a ‘Robin Hood’ of sorts.”

“You are definitely _not_ Robin Hood.”

"Really? I thought I could pull off the green tights.”

Marvin writhed a little in his seat, feeling uncomfortable. He scanned the coffee shop, eyes falling on the man from earlier, who had taken a seat a little way away and was watching Whizzer in a way that was downright scary.

“Hey, Whizzer.” 

“Yeah?” Whizzer looked up. A little concerned by the serious tone Marvin had adopted so quickly.

“That man’s staring at you.”

“I know. He’s been looking over here for about 10 minutes now.”

“And you’re not at all worried?”

“Why should I be? He wants a piece of this.” Whizzer gestured to himself.

Marvin groaned in annoyance. _Why were they seeing two different things here?_

“Whizzer, I think that man wants to kill you.”

Whizzer threw his head back and laughed; hearty and unashamed.

“Marvin, that man wants to pay my bills.”

"Why?" Marvin couldn't find the words he was looking for. "Why aren't you at least a little bit worried?”

Whizzer took hold of Marvin’s hand and held it very lightly, tracing the lines on the back of Marvin’s hand with his thumb. Whizzer’s mouth hung open for a beat while he tried to put his thoughts into words. 

“Marvin, I’ve kind of been doing this for a while now and I’ve learnt that people,” Whizzer winced. “They don’t tend to have much respect for those who whore themselves out to make a living.

Marvin opened his mouth to protest but Whizzer clasped his hand over it.

“No. Shut up. I _am_ , okay? I am a prostitute, or a hooker, or a whore, or whatever it is that people call me. And believe me, I’ve heard it all.”

Whizzer didn’t look at Marvin. Instead, his eyes seemed to study the world moving past them outside. 

“Honestly, thanks for the concern, I appreciate it - really I do - but I’m fine. Besides, I get to have sex all day and then get paid for it. I’m living the dream.”

Whizzer smiled as if to prove it. But it was forced and didn’t fit in with the dark bags beneath his eyes or the crumpled clothing he seemed to live in.

Marvin wasn’t convinced, even if he nodded and pretended that he was.

It wasn’t any of his business what Whizzer did. _It’s not like they’re dating_. But _God_ , how Marvin wanted to. He wanted to leave the coffee shop with Whizzer in tow. He wanted to come home to Whizzer after a long day of work. He wanted Whizzer in his bed with the assurance that he was the only one able to touch him. Marvin wanted what he couldn’t have.

Feeling way too wound up, Marvin reached into his coat pocket and discretely withdrew a hip flask. He unscrewed the top under the table and quickly took a large swig.

“Marvin!” 

Marvin winced. _Why was Whizzer so loud?_

“You are an alcoholic! I have to admit, I’ve had my suspicions but- “

“I’m not an alcoholic!” 

Marvin sighed.

“Things just haven’t been great lately. My son, Jason, has his birthday coming up and I’m going to be forced to stay under the same roof as my ex-wife and her new husband for at least 3 hours. Not to mention, I have absolutely no idea what to actually get him for his birthday.” 

Marvin sighed and took another small sip from his flask.

Whizzer reached forward and rested his hand on Marvin’s shoulder sympathetically. 

“Well, at least it’s only once a year.”

Marvin laughed humourlessly. “There’s always the holidays too.”

“I bet Christmas is fun.”

Marvin shook his head. “Not Christmas. Hanukkah.”

“You’re Jewish?”

“Yeah, instead of putting up with Trina and Mendel for 1 day in December, I’ve got to do it for an extra 7.”

Marvin groaned into his hands.

“That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“It’s just that, I’m Jewish too – on my mother’s side.”

“Really?”

Whizzer smiled fondly. “Yeah.”

He hesitated and spoke almost reluctantly. “I never had a bar mitzvah though. My dad wasn’t religious and didn’t me joining a cult when I was 13 years old.”

Marvin scoffed. “That is _such_ bullshit.”

“I know!” Whizzer laughed and rolled his sleeves a little further up his arms.

“Anyway.” Marvin shook the hip flask in acknowledgment. “I swear, that’s the only reason I have this with me. It helps take the edge off when I’m about to do something I know I’m not going to like.”

“Well, in that case…” Whizzer leant forward and swiped the hip flask from Marvin’s hand before taking a long drink himself. 

He then passed it back to Marvin, who screwed the lid on and watched as Whizzer swiveled to face the man who had been staring from the other table.

Marvin sat still as Whizzer and the stranger stared at each other, obviously talking in some secret silent language that Marvin could not understand.

Moments later, the man stood up and made his way to the door; not once taking his predatory stare off of Whizzer. 

Whizzer stood up as soon as the door had closed behind the man. 

“Are you sure that you don’t want to come and have some fun with me?”

Marvin didn’t look up. “Absolutely.”

“Well, when you’re done playing hard-to-get, I’ll be waiting.”

Whizzer sent Marvin one last wink before sauntering towards the door and waving goodbye to Marvin. 

Marvin shivered. He walked back up to the counter and ordered a sandwich, another drink and a bag of chips – just to be sure. Marvin wasn’t particularly hungry, he was just terrified of walking outside to find Whizzer and the man he’d left with. There was always the possibility that they’d relocated to a house or hotel room, but Marvin wasn’t about to take that chance. 

 

~*~

 

Driving in New York wasn’t a good idea.

The roads always seemed to be gridlocked no matter what time of the day it was and pedestrians could never tell the road from the sidewalk.

Marvin _did_ own a car, but it was a second-hand Datsun that he had bought cheaply and impulsively at Jason’s insistence. He rarely used it and honestly, the little white car was more trouble than it was worth. It cost a fortune in gas and was too much trouble to drag around New York. Instead, Marvin's car was just left to rust in a few blocks away in a costly parking space that he ended up paying for monthly. Still, there were moments where it proved useful: like the time it got Jason to his first little league game last year or when Marvin would buy too much from the supermarket and need help getting everything home. 

It was especially useful when it came to picking Jason up from Trina and Mendel’s house. Marvin had mastered the art of setting off just a _little_ bit late to avoid talking to Jason's mother or stepfather under the guise of betting home ahead of rush-hour traffic.

Knowing this didn’t make facing them any easier.

Marvin parked his car outside Trina and Mendel’s house and leant this forehead on the steering wheel. 

He waited there until he saw the living room curtains part and Jason poke his head out briefly before retreating back inside. 

Marvin smiled and finally made his way to the door. Ringing the doorbell one, he stood on the tatty doormat and waited.

Trina answered the door with Jason tucked in front of her.

Jason was stuffed into a navy jacket with a matching hat sitting atop his head and a lengthy scarf wrapped around his neck – he looked miserable. Clearly, the extra layers were Trina's idea.

Marvin grinned down at him. "Hey, son."

Jason didn't look up and instead, he opted for fiddling with the buttons on his Walkman. "You didn't have to pick me up. I can walk, you know?"

“Come on, you know it’s getting too cold for that. You could probably lose the hat though, it’s not that cold yet.”

Jason's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he looked up to protest. He was, however, stopped by Trina ushering him outside. “Jason, sweetie, why don’t you go wait in the car? I have to speak to your father.”

Jason passed Marvin and made his way to the car parked in the driveway, still muttering under his breath as he shut the car door behind him.

Marvin thought about what Whizzer was probably doing right now and figured that if he could persevere without complaining then Marvin could probably muster a fake smile for his ex-wife.

Marvin stood with his arms folded and lips stretched into a smile. It wasn’t convincing, but it was something.

 

“Trina! How are you?”

“All the better seeing you.” Marvin tried not to wince. _Sarcasm_. _Fantastic_.

“Well, it was great to see you again, but I’d best be off.”

“Really? But you’ve only just got here. Any reason that you’re so late?”

“I was with a friend.” 

“Was this friend also the reason you couldn’t go into work a few weeks ago?”

Marvin blanched. _How could she possibly know that?_

“What do you mean?”

Trina sighed, “Marvin, I’ve known you since high school. That look in your eye never leads to anything good.”

Marvin wasn’t good at acting, but he tried his best to sound indifferent as he backed away slowly.

“No, it was probably just traffic.” He turned to walk in the direction of his car. “Let me know if you need me to watch Jason, okay?”

“Marvin! Wait!” 

Trina had chased him down the driveway and Marvin froze with his hand on the door handle of his car. 

Marvin felt freedom beneath his fingertips. _It would be so easy to just run…_

However, like the responsible adult he claimed to be, Marvin turned around to face the music.

Trina edged a few steps closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Have you got something for…” She tried to inconspicuously point at Jason who watched her with minimal interest through the car window. 

For a moment Marvin looked-on with the smug satisfaction that _his_ son was not an idiot and knew exactly when he was being talked about. Though unlike his father, Jason knew when to interject and when to shut up and feign ignorance.

He was roughly brought back to the present by Trina giving him a small jab in the ribs. 

“Marvin.” She sighed, took a minute to compose herself and looked her ex-husband in the eye. “I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. You’ve been acting weird, well, weird _er_ and I was just wondering if you were doing okay?” 

Trina’s voice had taken on the same kind of maternal softness she used with Jason when he’d come home after a bad day. She always seemed to know what to say and how to say it when Jason needed to hear some kind of loving reassurance. As much as Marvin hated to admit it, Trina was a good mom and he probably couldn’t manage this parenting thing on his own – even if he liked to pretend that he could.

Marvin smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He spoke slowly and tried his best to sound sure. He was actually a little touched that Trina seemed to care but the less she knew about Marvin’s life right now, the better.

His hand reconnected with the car door handle and he tugged it open. 

“Don’t worry about,” Marvin gestured towards Jason with his head, “I’ve got something.” 

Marvin shut the door and fastened his seatbelt and checked to make sure Jason had done the same (even though he always did). 

The lie hung in the air but Marvin wasn’t up for answering any more questions and hoped that he’d sounded convincing enough for Trina to drop the matter. 

As Marvin backed the car out of the driveway, he waved one last time to Trina who stood on the doorstep looking only mildly concerned before turning his attention to Jason who sat next to him. 

The kid had already placed his headphones on his head and was looking out the window at passing traffic. Marvin tried not to be disappointed. Jason wasn’t the type of child who would babble on and on senselessly. Still, it seemed as though he was just purposely avoiding a conversation with his father at this point.

Marvin turned his attention back to the road, frowning as he watched white flakes fall from the sky.

_Snow? But it’s still October._

It seemed as though the universe just liked to make Marvin feel extra guilty being sat in a car that he owned, with the heaters on full blast; forcing nauseating warm air into Marvin's face as he tried  
desperately not to think of Whizzer.

He tried not to think of Whizzer in his coffee-stained button up, trying to repress the shivers that would wrack his body. Tried not to think of Whizzer brushing off the insults hurled his way while he was just trying to do his job. Tied not to think of someone touching Whizzer – _fucking Whizzer_ -

 _Too far_.

Marvin slammed on the breaks. Effectively derailing this train of thought and startling him back to the present. 

Marvin heard Jason's shriek of "Dad!" followed by the blaring horn of the car behind them. Sheepishly, Marvin started driving again. He tried his best to ignore the curious stares from onlookers as he tried to keep his mind focused and car steady.

“Dad, are you alright?” 

Jason had slid his headphones from his ears and allowed them to hang from his neck. He was looking at Marvin with a mixture of intrigue and fear and sat tensely in the passenger seat.

Marvin tried on his best confident smile. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just saw some ice on the road. I didn't want the car to skid."

“Sure.” 

Jason, ever the sceptic, didn’t believe his father for a second and instead opted to slide his headphones over his ears again. 

Marvin rolled his eyes, frustrated and worried.

He needed someone to blame. For his failed marriage, for the poor excuse of a relationship he had with his son, for the way Whizzer makes ends meet. 

But that hurt to think about and it was much easier to take in the first beautiful, deadly signs of the oncoming winter.


End file.
